


In Our Bedroom After The War

by ghostwit



Category: One Piece
Genre: 3D2Y (One Piece), But nothing explicit lol soz., Canon Compliant, Character Study, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Non-Linear Narrative, Set in the six months Luffy's alone but it's also not that important lol.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:20:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25532737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostwit/pseuds/ghostwit
Summary: She’s not married a ghost. She can say with certainty she hasn’t married a ghost.(If there's no one there, then there's no one there,but at least the war is over.)
Relationships: Gol D. Roger & Silvers Rayleigh, Gol D. Rogers/Silver Rayleigh (past) (implied), Silvers Rayleigh/Shakky, That implied is like... VERY distantly implied but I did write with that in mind.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	In Our Bedroom After The War

She’s not married a ghost. She can say with certainty she hasn’t married a ghost.

_“What do you do? When a piece of your soul leaves?” He had mumbled to her, brushing her hair back with a lone hand, eyes clouded with sleep. She doesn’t ask him if that’s really what he believes. She slid closer on the mattress, let him feel the way she fit against him, to know that he was complete. His other hand flexes on his shoulder, digging into the flesh there that she’s sure is burning with memory._

_“That’s how it is with captains.” she laughs, it’s what she can manage for him, knows it won’t wound his pride._

_“Do they always?” he mutters, leaning forward to bury himself in her hair, “Going where you can’t follow..?” as his breath wafts warm to her ear he stiffens at her side, reflex stronger in him than most, before relaxing, slow and deliberate. She reaches between them, slots her fingers in the ridges of his abdomen, feels it as it softens. She thinks her hand could go right through to wrap her palms around the pain that sits there, the weight of Roger’s crown buried deep under his partner’s skin._

She’s not jealous, too old, too wise to be jealous. It’s something, too, to sit in this bone-deep understanding with him, to hold those brittle bones in her hands until they go soft and gooey, oozing cold marrow between her delicate fingers--there is no reverence there (she, his wife, has no use for the Dark King), only respect. The Rayleigh that is hers is the one that is human.

This morning’s Rayleigh presses a kiss to her spine as he ambles into the kitchen, turns and lifts her up on the counter to stand between her thighs and wrap slender fingers around her hips. His eyes crinkle pleasantly as she indulges him, draping her arms over his shoulders and locking her ankles behind his thighs to pull him closer, _yeah_ , complete. 

_“You know,” he chuckles when he steps into the bar, placing his chin on Shakuyaku’s shoulder, “I think you’ve got a couple things you’re holding onto, too.”_

_Shakky turns from the newspapers she’s got scattered across the counter, kisses him from his perch, something he returns with ease. His arm arcs as he makes for her hand, looses her grip from the pen she’s holding there. She didn’t realize she’d been clutching so tight, the pain only lancing up her arm when her fingers uncoil._

_“I’m not the one with the kid on a leash.” she grins up at him, and he scoffs in mock-offense. They know any responsibility of his is, in part, hers now. “It’s good, though,” she muses, “at least these are alive.” She pats the bartop in emphasis, the newspaper cushioning her palm hollowing the sound out so it echoes in the empty bar._

_He laughs._

They don’t talk until he’s zipping his pants up with one hand, the other helping her slide her coat up her shoulder with a fond, lingering touch. “Might go for a swim.” he says, around that spent smile, and she takes a deep breath, tilting her head back to feel the way the warmth between them pulls through her nose and goes wafting out her mouth. Rayleigh steps into their bubble again, presses a closed-mouth kiss to the column of her throat. 

“Smoke with me first?” she offers.

“Always,” he says.

**Author's Note:**

> Been a while since I've written something short like this, perhaps this is something I'll rewrite in the future with a little more meat, but for now it's fine like this. I think a lot about these two but it's so hard to write it without being too on-the-nose or making them seem too gloomy or whatever. 
> 
> Something something everything's colored with grief when you reach a certain age, something something friendly, homey ghosts. Definitely want to work with them more. They're in love T_T 
> 
> Please leave a comment if you'd like, they mean a lot to me and I'm always happy to hear any kind of feedback.


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